I Had You
by avalondutch
Summary: Mush was only nine when his mother passed, but he already knew that things would change. However, some people, like his sister Samantha, would rather live in the past. So when they meet after years of being separated, Samantha is unwilling to forgive her brother for leaving her. It may take the help of a certain one-eyed friend to bring these two back together.
1. Prologue

This is my first chaptered fic. Hope you like it! Oh and I don't own Newsies.

~Avalon

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Prologue

Jonathan Meyers stood in front of the theater, looking longingly up at the bright lights illuminating the street. His mother took him here once, a long time ago. It had been the best day of his life. Looking back on it, everyday spent with Mama had been the best day of his life, at least compared to these days. His mother had died when he was nine of influenza. That was almost a year ago. Now he was ten and lived with his hateful stepfather and nine-year-old half-sister, Samantha. Mama had loved her children equally, striving to give them each a good and comfortable life. But Luke, his stepfather, despised Jonathan because his father was black. He had known that the mulatto boy was part of the deal when he married Jonathan's beautiful mother, and had tolerated him while his wife was alive, but as soon as she died he quit the act. Jonathan could still hear Luke's words to him after the funeral ringing in his ears.

"The only good thing comin' from yer mama's death is that I ain't gotta pretend anymore. You ain't never been no son of mine," he said. Jonathan had stared back at him, unmoving. Inside he writhed with anger and grief. But he refused to cry. There was no more room for crying anymore. After that day things had changed. His stepfather worked him hard and beat him when he made a mistake. Most times Jonathan felt that he beat him for no reason, which was a pretty accurate assumption.

His sister, Samantha, tried to help him. She would do his chores when he ached too much to do them himself, despite his protests.

"Papa doesn't mean it," she whispered to him in the late hours of the night. "He's just upset that Mama's gone and he's taking it out on you." Jonathan shook his head sadly and his sister's naivety and ruffled her honey-colored hair, the same hair as his mother's. It was the exact opposite of his tight dark curls.

"It's more than that, Sammy. He hates me because I'm different. I don't look nothin' like him and that means that people know I'm not his son," he explained. Samantha nodded in sad understanding.

"Well I love you no matter what you look like, Johnny," she said, embracing him in a tight hug. Jonathan smiled and hugged her back. He felt blessed to have a sister like her.

"And that's why yer my favorite girl."

Jonathan was knocked out of his trance by someone plowing into his shoulder.

"Watch it!" called the raspy voice of a street urchin running past him. Jonathan angrily rubbed his bruised shoulder. He looked back up at the theater lights and realized how dark it had gotten. Luke was going to kill him if he didn't get back home on time.

"'Scuse me, sir," he said, stopping a man walking by. "Would ya happen to have the time?" The man looked at him skeptically before pulling out his pocket watch.

"It's near six, boy," said the man.

"Thank you," said Jonathan before taking off in the direction of his apartment. He was supposed to go home right after work as an errand boy and be there by six o'clock sharp. Today he had simply lost track of time and he knew he would be punished dearly for it. He arrived home at six oh four, but there was no sound in the house. The lights were off save a candle glowing behind Samantha's closed door. Maybe it was Luke's late day and he hadn't arrived yet. Jonathan walked into the dark sitting room to light the lamp when he tripped over something and landed with a thud on the hard floor. Suddenly a gas lamp turned on and a shadow engulfed him. He lifted his head to see Luke standing over him, his expression blank and his walking cane in his hand.

"Hey mush fer brains, where ya been?" he asked, using his favorite nickname for him.

"M-my errands ran late. I'm sorry," said Jonathan. Luke smacked his back with the cane. A yelp escaped from Jonathan's mouth.

"Yer lyin' to me," said Luke. "Get up!" Jonathan scrambled to his feet, his back aching.

"Honest, I'm not lyin'!" pleaded Jonathan. Luke jabbed the cane into his stomach, causing the boy to double over. He grabbed Jonathan by his collar.

"Yer a lyin' little snake! You know the rules, yer supposed to be home by six! You can tell time, can't you? Or are you's as dumb as yer daddy?" said Luke. Jonathan glared at the man before him. He blinked away his angry tears. It was time to stand up to him.

"My daddy was a great man, unlike you. My mama loved him an' she woulda still been with him if he hadn't been killed. Mama only married you so that you could take care of her," he spat. Luke looked at the boy, and Jonathan could've sworn the expression that flickered across his face meant that Jonathan had told the truth, but it left as soon as it had come. Luke punched Jonathan in the jaw, sending him tumbling to the ground. Then he kicked him repeatedly in the stomach, shouting curses. Samantha ran out of her room after hearing the noise and screamed.

"Papa! Stop it, Papa!" she begged.

"Samantha, go to your room!" he bellowed. Feeling scared and helpless, Samantha obeyed. Luke continued to kick Jonathan until he was barely conscious. Then he stopped and spat on him.

"Yer fadder was scum, and yer just like him. You'll never be nothin'." With one more kick to the head, Jonathan succumbed to unconciousness.

Jonathan awoke to someone placing something cool on his forehead. Through a swollen eye he saw Samantha looking lovingly down at him, her hazel eyes—the same ones that his mother had—illuminated by the candle beside her.

"Samantha," he mumbled. The young girl shook her head.

"Don't speak," she crooned. She took the compress off of his head and soaked it in a bowl next to her before dabbing some blood off his cheek. For a second he saw every bit of his mother in his sister. At that moment Jonathan realized that when their mother died, he wasn't the only one who had to grow up quickly.

"I have to get out of here," he said after moments of silence. Samantha furrowed her brow.

"When?" she asked.

"Tonight," he told her.

"You can't, you're not well," she said. Jonathan slowly sat up.

"And if I stay here things ain't gonna be much better. He might beat me again tomorrow."

"Then I'm coming with you," Samantha stated firmly.

"No," said Jonathan in a stern voice. "The streets is no place for a nine-year-old girl." Samantha put her hands on her hips.

"It ain't for a ten-year-old boy either!" she said in a louder voice.

"Keep it down. Look, you gotta stay here for now, Sammy, you just gotta. One day I'll come back and I'll get you, I promise. For now just please listen to me," Jonathan pleaded.

He could see tears forming in the brims of his sister's beautiful eyes. He pulled her into a tight embrace and didn't care that she was hurting his bruises by squeezing him too hard.

"Don't cry. I'll be back. I'll come for you," he reassured her.

"I love you, Johnny," she said through stifled sobs. Jonathan felt a tear rolling down his cheek.

"I love you too," he said in a shaky voice. Then he let go while he still had the heart to and clumsily stood up. Samantha stood up too and he ruffled her hair one last time. "Your papa loves you. He'll take care of you," he said. Samantha nodded. She grabbed the sack that he kept all his belongings in and handed it to him, kissing him on the cheek.

"Be safe," she told him.

"I will. Now get to bed before he wakes up," he commanded. Samantha dropped her head and did what she was told. She glanced at him one more time before closing her room door. With a heavy heart and powerful determination Jonathan crept out of the window and onto the fire escape. He climbed down and started on his trek to a place far away from there.

The streets of New York were dangerous at night, and Jonathan had no idea where he was going or what he was doing. A couple of times he regretted leaving, for under his stepfather's tyranny he still had a roof over his head and food to eat. But there was no turning back now. After walking for what felt like hours Jonathan stopped. His body was screaming out for attention after the abuse he had endured earlier. Finding an alley he nestled himself between two garbage cans and tried to go to sleep. Not more than five minutes later his eyes shot open when he discovered that he wasn't alone.

"You think Kloppman'll catch us?" said one voice.

"Nah," said a second deeper voice. "The old bat could sleep through another civil war." The voices didn't sound threatening but Jonathan was still on edge. Shifting in order to hear better, his foot hit a trashcan.

"What was that?" said a third voice.

"Hey, who's there?" said the second voice. "Come out or I'll soak ya!" Jonathan froze, almost wetting his pants from fear. He heard footsteps coming closer to him and he shut his eyes. He refused to open them when he knew that they were right in front of him.

"Dear me, what have we here?" said the third voice tauntingly.

"It's just a kid, leave 'im alone," said the first voice.

"Hey kid, open your eyes," said the second voice, less threatening than before. Jonathan reluctantly opened his eyes. Standing before him was a teenage boy, about seventeen, and two younger kids closer to his age.

"He looks scared," said the boy with the first voice.

"'Course he's scared," said the boy with the third voice. "Spider just told 'im he'd soak 'im." The teenager with the deep voice bent down so that he was at eye level with Jonathan.

"What's yer name, kid?" he asked.

"Jonathan," mumbled Jonathan.

"I'm Spider. What're ya doing out here?" asked Spider.

"I ran away," said Jonathan.

"Tell 'im to speak up. He's mushin' all his words together," said the owner of the third voice. Spider glared at the younger boy before turning back to Jonathan.

"Well Mush, it looks like you got beat pretty bad. How's about we take you back to where we's stayin'. Would ya like that?" The nickname made him cringe when he thought about his stepfather, and going back with three strangers didn't seem safe, but what other option did he have? So he nodded his head and took Spider's extended hand while one of the other boys grabbed his sack.

"Thanks," said Jonathan as they began to lead him off somewhere.

"By the way, this is Racetrack," said Spider, pointing to an Italian-looking boy with a cigar in his mouth. "And that's Kid Blink," he gestured toward the boy holding his sack with an eye patch over his left eye. Jonathan had the urge to laugh at their nicknames but thought better of it.

"Why do none of you use your real names?" he asked. The three boys laughed.

"You don't need real names for what we's do," said Racetrack. Jonathan was hesitant in asking another question, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"And…uh…what exactly do you's do?" he said timidly. He was answered by Spider, who clapped him on the shoulder, causing him to wince.

"We're newsies, Mush. We run this city," he said proudly. Jonathan smiled inwardly. Maybe now he would be a part of something. And one day maybe he would make Samantha a part of this too.


	2. Chapter 1: Seven Years Later

**The story now takes place a year after the strike. Enjoy!**

**Thank you to Ealasaid Una for reviewing! It means a lot to me. We'll see what became of Samantha next...**

**Blah, blah, blah don't own newsies.**

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Chapter 1: Seven Years Later…

The lights were out in the Queens orphanage but Samantha Taylor was wide awake. Sitting up in her rickety cot she placed a piece of burlap in her lap and untied the piece of twine that kept it in a bundle. Making sure that the madame wasn't patrolling outside her door, she began to count her money, her dirty, slender fingers moving deftly in the dim light coming from the moon.

"One…two…three…" she counted, looking up every few seconds to make sure she was still in the clear. "Fifty-five…fifty-six…fifty-seven—" she stopped abruptly when she heard one of the other girls stir. When the girl rolled over and began snoring she continued. "A dollar…a dollar one…a dollar two. One dollar and two cents." She concluded with a sigh. This was her whole life savings and she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She had plans that involved that money, and a measly dollar and two cents was barely going to cut it. She had never been rich, no, but she had never been poor before either. She had also never been so alone before.

The newly turned sixteen-year-old had once had what she thought was a loving family, with a mother, a father, and a brother. But quicker than she had thought, that family had turned into a father and a brother, to just a father, to no family at all. Her heart ached as she thought about her father, who had died of pneumonia six months ago. Her father wasn't always a very nice man to others, especially to her brother, and he participated in various illegal acts to make money, but he had always tried to treat Samantha like a princess. Oh how terribly she missed him! When he had died the authorities sent her to an orphanage with virtually nothing to her name. The city had taken everything to compensate for her father's tax neglect. The orphanage was a wretched place that had no interest in taking care of children at all. Those nights as she listened to kids cry for mothers that would never come, she was forced back into her memories, a place that she hated to visit. She would sob silent tears for her mother, a woman that she was slowly starting to forget although she need only look in a mirror to remember. Yet she would become angry when her thoughts brought her to Jonathan, her older brother who ran away to escape her father and said he would come back for her but never did. On the day that they pried her away from her father's lifeless body she was half expecting Johnny to appear and whisk her away to a place where she would feel safe again. When he didn't show she cursed herself for even having the tiniest glimmer of hope that he would show up. In reality she knew that she had given up on him a long time ago. He didn't want her. If he did he would have let her go with him the night he left, for at one time she had loved him more than her father and would've followed him anywhere. But one couldn't dwell on the past so she had gone on with the rest of her life trying to be as happy as she could be.

Samantha sighed as she tied the twine back around her tiny sack and shoved it under her pillow. There was no room for happiness in a place like this. She looked pensively out of the small, dirty window, her heart beating faster as she pondered the freedom that lay behind it. Tucking herself into her bed she smiled. Tomorrow she would get that freedom.

Samantha slunk through the shadows of the buildings, constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody was following her. That morning she had woken up and gone to her job at the textile factory with the other older girls. After excusing herself to use the bathroom, she had snuck out the back door and hurried through the back alleys to get away. She knew what she had done was risky enough on a regular day, but people had noticed a change in her that morning.

"Miss Taylor, you're rather quiet today," Madame had said as she inspected the girls' bunk earlier. Samantha had raised her eyebrows but gave no response. There was too much on her mind for her to have another futile conversation with her cadaverous warden. Madame had circled her, trying to sniff out the reason for the normally vocal girl's silence. Samantha had kept her hands at her sides, concealing the sack of money in her pocket. The girls were not allowed to bring their money outside of the orphanage for fear that it would give them an incentive to run away.

Finding nothing unusual about Samantha, Madame cleared her throat and gave her a skeptical look. "You had better not be up to any funny business, Samantha, or it's bed with no supper."

Samantha had smiled sweetly and lowered her head in faux respect.

"Of course not, Madame."

Samantha had taken off to Manhattan where she had heard that there were more job opportunities in the most popular borough. She was at a loss for what to do now. Yes, she had escaped, but hadn't thought of what would happen next. She took a moment to smile, however, and couldn't help but think about how proud Jonathan would be if he knew that she had run away, not giving in to the oppression she had faced, much like he had. The smile vanished when she realized it was getting dark. Her stomach grumbled. When was the last time she had eaten properly? Trudging through the city, her eyes searched for a haven that would protect her through the night. She was so very tired and her eyes began to droop. She was thinking about just collapsing on the sidewalk when a voice called out to her.

"Hey pretty girl, where're ya headed?"

Samantha whirled around to see two burly men approaching her menacingly. Facing forward again, she continued on at a faster pace, hoping that they would get bored and leave her alone. Unfortunately they had other plans. The shorter of the two ran in front of her, blocking her path. She tried to walk the other way but she bumped into the taller one, knocking the wind out of her as she struggled to keep two feet on the ground.

"Why so scared, toots?" said the one in front of her. His voice was scratchy and high-pitched and unpleasant to the ear. "We don't bite, honest."

"Unless you want us to," said the deep voice of the other. Panic washed over Samantha as she pondered what to do. She opened her mouth to plead with the men but she figured that it wouldn't do any good. So she ran. Pushing past the shorter one, she took off down the street, hiking her skirt up so it wouldn't be a hindrance.

"Hey, get back here!" cried the one with the high voice. A cramp began to form in Samantha's side and she knew she had to find a place to hide before they caught up to her. Ducking into an alley, she looked through the rubble to see what could conceal her when she saw a door. Wrenching it open she stepped through and shut it quickly behind her.

Samantha found herself in what looked to be the backstage of a theater. There were costumes hung up on racks and lights and stage equipment scattered in various places. Feeling scared and exhausted, she ducked in a corner behind a rack of clothes to wait until she was sure the men had gone away. As she waited she heard voices coming from the stairs nearby.

"Toby, did you hear the door close just now?" said the melodic voice of a woman.

"I reckon it's just that ventriloquist, Arthur. Probably back from getting drunk again," said the voice of a man. They were getting closer.

"No, I saw Arthur. He's drinking at the bar tonight. Maybe I'm just hearing things," said the woman. Samantha held her breath as the woman sifted through the clothing rack she was hiding behind. As luck would have it Samantha's nose picked that very moment to become irritated by dust, and she let out a powerful sneeze that was impossible to muffle. Startled, the woman jumped and the man hurried to her side.

"You okay, Miss Larkson?" he asked. The woman didn't answer, but instead pushed the rack to the side and put her hands on her hips when she saw Samantha.

"I knew I heard the door close. What on earth are you doing here? We don't give free shows," said the woman. Samantha was taken aback by the beauty of the near middle-aged woman. Although she wore a stern look on her face Samantha could tell that her face carried very little traces of lines caused by stress and scowls. Her hair was a violent shade of red that clashed with her purple dress, though Samantha couldn't get over how stunning she looked. Hurrying to stand up, her knees wobbled in fear.

"Pardon me, ma'am, I'm not trying to see a free show," said Samantha. "I was walking and these two men started chasing me and I had nowhere to go so I was hiding out here. Please don't make me leave yet, I'm not sure they've stopped looking for me."

A frown appeared on the woman's face and she glanced at the man beside her, a plump fellow with a ridiculous painted on clown's face and a concession box around his neck.

"What is your name, sweetheart?" said the woman, her face softening and her voice becoming more pleasant.

"Samantha. Samantha Taylor," said Samantha.

"Well Samantha, my name is Medda Larkson and I run this vaudeville theater. You may stay as long as you like. Toby will get you situated," said Medda.

"Oh thank you, Miss Larkson," said Samantha, truly grateful for the kindness bestowed on her. Medda smiled and patted her cheek.

"It's Medda. And don't you worry about a thing, baby," she said. With that she turned and hurried back up the stairs.

"You get to sit in the best seat in the house," said Toby warmly, leading her through the room and right behind a curtain where she could see the stage clearly.

"Thank you," said Samantha.

"You look hungry." From his concession box Toby pulled out a soda bottle, a bag of roasted peanuts, and three licorice sticks. "It's on the house," he said with a wink. Samantha smiled broadly.

"I appreciate it," she said. Toby nodded and then he too left.

Not much longer, the show started. Samantha watched with interest as musicians, comedians, and magicians took the stage, some better than others. She was amazed by the acrobats and not that thrilled to see the female dancers, but she watched anyway, wondering if she could ever be as confident as they appeared. Then Medda took the stage and sang a sweet song that had all the men whipping their hats in the air and shouting ovations. When it was finally over Samantha had found herself slumped in her chair, ready to fall asleep at any moment. She jerked into reality when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Medda's sweet face staring down at her.

"The show's over, darling, don't you have a home to go to?" she asked. Samantha hesitated, wondering if she trusted the woman enough to tell her where she was supposed to be.

"Not…not exactly," she stuttered. Medda pursed her lips.

"Isn't anyone looking for you right now?" asked Medda. Samantha nervously clutched her right hand with her left.

"No," she said. Medda gave her sad eyes. She extended her hand which Samantha took and pulled the girl up from the chair.

"Listen Samantha, I like you so here's what I'll do. I'll give you a place to stay tonight and tomorrow we can discuss you maybe getting a job here until you get on your feet," she said. Samantha smiled. She could've hugged the woman in gratitude.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said. Medda laughed lightly.

"Come child, I'll show you where you'll sleep."

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Well there you have it. Reviews would be nice.


	3. Chapter 2: Birthday Surprise

**Well I'm back, just barely that is. If any of you were affected by Hurricane Sandy this week then you know exactly how I feel. Power outage and excruciatingly long gas lines with my tank dangerously nearing E had taken over my life for the week. I couldn't even enjoy the fact that all my classes were cancelled. I hope everyone else was safe. Well, enough of my sob story and on to a story relevant to this site. Thank you for the reviews, they were much appreciated!**

**~Avalon**

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Chapter 2

"Happy birthday, Mush!" a voice cried, waking Mush out of his sleep. Opening one eye, he saw Kid Blink at the foot of his bed, smiling like an idiot. Mush groaned and threw his pillow over his head to block out the intruding spring sunlight. He didn't even want to know how Blink had managed to crawl up to his top bunk without waking him up in the first place. "Aw come on, rise and shine, buddy!" said Blink, tearing the covers off of his friend.

"It'll still be my birthday in five minutes!" growled Mush.

"But I wanna give you your present _now_," said Blink. Mush bolted upright at the word 'present.' He wasn't a greedy kid but he rarely got anything for free that he didn't steal so hearing the word made his ears perk up.

"You got me a present?" said Mush in awe. Blink smiled.

"'Course I did, Mushy, I thought we just went over that it's yer birthday. Here ya go." He handed Mush a package sloppily wrapped in last week's paper. Mush mercilessly pulled off the wrapping and pulled out a brown cap with a pair of navy blue socks inside. Mush smiled. He had been complaining that his old hat was becoming threadbare and his current pair of socks had matching holes in the big toe.

"Wow, thanks Kid! Just what I needed," said Mush. Blink looked pleased with his reaction.

"Yer welcome," he said. "I paid for the socks, but the guy sellin' 'em to me was givin' me such a hard time that I nicked the hat on my way out." Mush laughed.

"Free's the best kind," he reasoned, throwing the hat on his head.

"Dere's the birthday boy!" Jack exclaimed as he and Racetrack walked over to his bed. They each grabbed one of Mush's limbs and pulled him down, much to the dismay of the newly turned seventeen-year-old.

"Hey, watch it!" exclaimed Mush as he landed hard on the balls of his feet.

"Stop bein' a baby," said Jack.

"Bastard," muttered Mush. Jack ignored his comment and handed him a small package yet again wrapped in newspaper. Mush smiled in gratitude and pulled the wrapping off. A metal razor fell into his hand.

"For when yer whiskers finally grow in," said Jack, playfully jabbing Mush in the chin. He was always getting teased for the lack of stubble on his cherubic face. Mush pushed him back but couldn't help the broad grin that spread across his face.

"Gosh Jack, thanks!" said Mush. Racetrack also presented him with a present, this one an unwrapped white box. Mush opened it up to reveal three cigars lined neatly in a row. He smiled but his face was a little crestfallen.

"Thanks Race, but I don't smoke, remember?" he said. Race shrugged and snatched the box away.

"Well then I guess you'se got no use for these then," he said. Mush rolled his eyes, knowing that Race had done that purposely so he could keep the cigars.

"Oh, yer _so_ thoughtful, Race," said Mush sarcastically. Race hooked his thumbs behind his suspenders and gave them a snap.

"What can I say, I'm a thoughtful guy."

"If yer so thoughtful, how's about you pay for my papes?" said Mush. Racetrack smirked.

"Yeah, maybe."

Mush received a bunch of other little presents from his friends. Skittery got him his own deck of cards so he would stop stealing his, Crutchy got him a pair of leather shoelaces, Boots got him a tiny vial of shoe shining polish, and Bumlets, Snoddy, and Jake had pooled their money together to buy him a small pocket knife. Even little Tumbler had pressed a penny in his hand, grinning at his tiny contribution to the older newsie's birthday. The other boys handed him bits of candy and apples they had pilfered from unsuspecting vendors.

After the birthday wishes ceased Mush made his way into the bathroom to get washed up. Splashing water onto his face, he blinked and looked into the mirror. Was it turning seventeen that made him look so different, or had he just not spared a glance in the mirror lately? His friends would attest to the contrary, stating that perhaps he spent a little _too_ much time admiring himself, since he did have a tendency to flounce around without a shirt at inappropriate times. Mush guessed that it was neither of these things; that he had been looking at himself without really _seeing_ himself. How had time flown by so quickly? In the past year alone he had grown three inches, his voice had dropped, and he had gotten rid of his little boy knickers for a pair of trousers that actually reached his ankles. Not to mention he had taken part in a newsboys strike against Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst that earned him and his friends a small victory the summer before. Gone were the days of Spider's leadership, his role being taken over by one or two more boys until Jack finally acquired the spot. Yes, things had changed, mostly for the better. But one thing seemed to stay the same: he still had yet to see Samantha. Two weeks prior had been her sixteenth birthday, and he had slumped throughout the entire day, thinking about the little joint celebrations their mother would hold for them around this time and the way she would taunt him about being the same age for a couple of weeks. He wondered where she was at this moment and hoped that she had people to celebrate with and that Luke had given her whatever she had asked for.

"You okay, Mush?" said a voice next to him. Mush started and looked to his right where Blink stood, concern flashing through his lone eye.

"Yeah," said Mush. He picked up a towel and wiped his face. Blink looked unconvinced.

"That's the same exact look you had on yer face two weeks ago when you'se was in that bad mood," said the blonde boy. Mush gave him a fake smile.

"I'm fine, really. Just thinkin' about how things are gonna be different since I'm seventeen now," he said, which was partly true. Blink smiled.

"Things ain't gonna be that different. Yer still young, healthy, and free. What else could ya want?" Blink adjusted his hat and clapped Mush on the back. "And tonight we're gonna celebrate at Medda's!"

"Should be fun," Mush muttered.

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It had been a week since Samantha had begun working and staying at Medda's vaudeville theater. The day after she had stumbled in through Irving Hall's alleyway entrance, Medda had employed her as an errand girl in the morning and a barmaid at night, complete with free meals and room and board. Samantha found that she liked working there, though she had been hit on and grabbed at more times than she would have preferred by drunken men. Anything beat working in that factory, she figured. Tonight was no different than any other night she had worked. It was late so only the rowdiest of the men were left behind, hooting and hollering at the dancing girls teasing them with their sultry voices and exposed ankles.

"So that's two beers and one rum on the rocks?" said Samantha. The three men she was waiting on nodded.

"Yup, that's it," said the biggest one. Samantha nodded and turned to leave but the man grabbed her wrist. Samantha's heart stopped and she whipped her head back around in fear. The man furrowed his brow before pushing a dime into her hand. "That's for you, sweetheart," he said almost apologetically. Samantha managed a small smile as he let go of her.

"Thank you," she said. She hurried away to go fill the order, quick to shake off the embarrassment she felt from acting the way she did. In her haste she failed to look where she was going and bumped into another being in the crowded area.

"Samantha, vhat iz going on? You are running like your skirt iz on fire," a voice said as hands were put on her shoulders. Samantha looked up and saw Larissa, a young Russian dancer gazing curiously at her. She smiled softly.

"Oh sorry, I was just…never mind," she said. "So, did you have fun up there on stage?" Larissa rolled her eyes as they walked to the bar.

"Is zhat a serious question?" she asked. Samantha laughed.

"Nope," she said, knowing that the girl lived for a performance.

The girls approached the bar where Henry, the head barman, greeted them warmly.

"Hello ladies, what can I do for ya?" he asked, flashing a yellow smile with a few missing teeth.

"Hey Henry, can I get two beers and a rum on the rocks?" said Samantha.

"And a vodka for me," said Larissa. Henry nodded and winked and then went to go get the drinks.

"So," said Larissa, brushing her thick black hair out of her startlingly green eyes. She was a very pretty girl with high Eastern European cheek bones and full lips. It was no wonder to Samantha that she had so much success at the theater. "How are you liking it here?"

Samantha shrugged.

"I like it. It's not what I'm used to but I'm getting the hang of it. It's like stepping into another world," she said. Larissa smiled.

"I know how you feel. When I first came to zis country I did not even know English. And now look at me," she said, twirling in her royal blue dress. "I am going to be famous." Samantha smiled and shook her head.

"I hope you do," she said.

A figure brushed past Samantha and then abruptly stopped.

"Sorry Samantha, I didn't see you there," said Alice, a blonde dancer.

"And vhere are you going?" asked Larissa. "Vhy is everyone is such hurry?" Alice smirked and flipped her hair back haughtily. She was not Samantha's favorite person at the theater.

"I've been asked to…perform at a private party. In fact, Larissa, I was just looking for you. You wanna come? It pays," said Alice, her large brown eyes shining brightly. Larissa huffed and glanced at Samantha. Both girls knew what Alice had meant by 'perform.' Paying a vaudeville girl for private sessions was a lot easier than finding a girl on the street, and there was less of a chance of being caught.

"How much?" asked Larissa.

"Five bucks each," answered Alice. Larissa looked like she was fighting inwardly with herself before she sighed.

"Fine. Samantha, I vill see you later," she said. Samantha watched as the two dancers disappeared into the crowd. She knew that Larissa hated doing those types of things, that it was only for the money. She wasn't quite sure about Alice, though, who seemed to thrive off the attention.

"Here's your order darlin'," said Henry as he placed a tray down on top of the bar. "And — where's Larissa?"

"She had to go. Thanks Henry," said Samantha. Henry shrugged off Larissa's disappearance and smiled at Samantha.

After taking the drinks back to the three men and placing another customer's order, Samantha stood back by the bar, relishing in a moment alone. She wiped her brow, sticky with sweat, and evaded the eyes of the leering middle-aged man sitting not too far away. Her interest had sparked when three boys about her age approached the bar. She had seen many boys come through but none quite like these. One boy was short with dark hair slicked back and a gaudy waistcoat smoking a large cigar. Another boy was very tall with greasy copper hair and a cowboy hat hanging off his back. He walked with an air of confidence that suited him. The third boy was taller than the smoker but not quite as tall as the cowboy. The eye patch over his left eye would have made him look menacing if it wasn't for the huge smile that was plastered on his face. Samantha found that she rather liked his smile. A fringe of dark blonde hair peaked out from under his cap. His eye fell on her and his smile quivered, and Samantha looked away, her cheeks surely flushing pink. When she looked back up the boys were conversing in an easygoing manner that indicated to Samantha that they had known each other for years. She wished she had that sort of companion.

"Samantha?" said Henry, and Samantha ripped her gaze away. "Here's your order."

"Thanks," she said before bringing it to the customer. Upon setting the drink down on the table, the crowd went wild as Medda Larkson herself took the stage. Samantha beamed at the beautiful woman, remembering her kindness toward her.

"Today is a very special day for a friend of mine. Mush, this song is for you. Happy birthday, honey," said Medda. She broke out into a song that nearly everyone in the audience knew and sang along to. Turning back around, Samantha noticed that the three boys by the bar were singing the loudest, the tallest one swinging his cowboy hat in the air. It was then that Samantha realized that this boy Mush had the same birthday as Jonathan. She wondered what he was doing for his birthday, wherever he was.

Shoving the thought out of her mind, she walked back to the bar, realizing that the boys' eyes were on her as they huddled together.

"Well someone's gotta to do it," said the cowboy.

"Oh c'mon, she probably won't even be up for it. Let's get one of the dancers," said the boy with the eye patch.

"No, she's fine. I'll do it," said the smoker. Samantha had to resist the urge to drop her jaw at the audacity of the boys. She pretended to busy herself when the trio broke up and the boy with the cigar approached her.

"'Scuse me, dollface," he said. Samantha looked up and frowned.

"Yes?" she said curtly. The boy, who was barely and inch taller than her, looked back at his friends before turning to face her.

"I come to ask you'se for a favor. Ya see, it's my friend's birthday today and I didn't really get 'im a thoughtful gift or nothin' like that so I was wonderin' if maybe I could get you to give him a kiss that he'd call it even," said the boy. What he said was a lot to take in but it made her frown even harder.

"Excuse me?" she said. The young man, who had seemed so confident a few seconds ago, faltered.

"Well, I mean, ya look like a respectable goil—"

"I am," Samantha interjected.

"What my friend means is that it would make our buddy real happy if you just gave 'im a peck on the cheek. Ya look like the kinda goil he's be into," said the cowboy, who appeared at the other boy's side.

"But you ain't gotta do nothin' ya don't wanna," said the boy with the eye patch.

Samantha looked at each boy individually, pondering their peculiar request. Who did this sort of thing anyhow? She had always been an inquisitive girl and was anxious to know what boy would be on the receiving end of her kiss and if he would really appreciate it. Curiosity getting the better of her, she nodded her head slowly.

"If I do this, will you leave me alone and let me do my job?" she asked. The cowboy and the smoker both nodded their heads vigorously while the eye patch clad boy merely shrugged. "Okay, where is he?"

The shortest boy smiled and placed a hand on her arm.

"Right this way, Miss," he said. He led her through the crowd to where a group of boys sat at a cluster of tables, still singing along with Medda and laughing. One laugh stood out to her. It was a hearty, high-pitched laugh, like a childlike guffaw. It sounded familiar, though she had only heard it from one person before.

"Hey Mush!" called the cowboy. "We got a surprise for ya."

Samantha didn't know what she was expecting when the boy turned around, but it definitely wasn't what she saw. He was bigger than when she last saw him, his shoulders broader, his jaw more defined. But his smile was the same as she had remembered.

"Jonathan?" said Samantha. The boy blanched, his oatmeal colored skin becoming a ghostly white.

"Samantha?" he said. And before Samantha Taylor could utter another word, Jonathan "Mush" Meyers collapsed on the floor.


	4. Chapter 3: Sorry

**Hey guys, sorry for the wait. I've been through a series of obstacles that involved broken objects since my last update. My beloved laptop broke, and my little brother broke his leg on his skateboard and has been a needy little brat. So this one is for you, Perry (my laptop, R.I.P.), and Brody (my brother, even though you'll never read it). I hope it's good, let me know if you're still enjoying this.**

**Also, thank you so, so much for the reviews. They made me feel all giddy inside, especially tot he guest reviewer who told me to "updato tomato," that made my day. :) **

Chapter 3: Sorry

Mush could feel cool hands on his face as he blinked into focus. At first all he could see was a blinding white light. He squinted and a woman's face came into view. _Mama_. The white surrounding her reflected off of her dark golden hair and she smiled as she whispered, "Jonathan." Mush smiled as he stared back up at her, not wanting the image to be erased. He blinked and all of a sudden the light was gone. His mother's face was replaced by a little girl's with the same hair falling into her face as she looked at him with concern. _Samantha_. Mush found himself lying on the floor of his stepfather's apartment as his little sister tended to his wounds all those years ago.

"What's he's smilin' for?" a harsh New York accent said, shattering Mush's vision. Samantha's face was replaced with Racetrack's, who looked down at him with concerned dark eyes. The atmosphere caught up with Mush and he could hear Medda Larkson's voice ringing throughout the theater and being mixed with the sound of glasses clinking, people laughing and the troubled words of the newsies surrounding him. He sighed. There had been no Mama or Samantha.

"Don't just stand there, help 'im up," said Jack. Mush felt hands push their way under his armpits and sit him up on the floor.

"You okay, Mush?" said Blink, his one eye searching Mush for an explanation. Mush rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the floor. Had he passed out? It must have been the alcohol, he concluded.

"Yeah," he groaned. Race crouched next to Blink and furrowed his brow.

"S'matter with you? You see a pretty girl and go weak at the knees? We'se gave you the name Mush for the wrong reason," he said. Mush looked around wildly. Maybe it wasn't a dream. Maybe Samantha had been there. Or perhaps it was just a girl who looked like Samantha. Either way he had to find out.

"What pretty girl? Where is she?" he asked.

"I think you scared her off," said Jack with a chuckle. "When we asked her to come over here to give ya a birthday kiss, I don't think she wanted to do it while ya were unconscious." The surrounding boys laughed. Mush ignored his comment and struggled to stand up, getting a hand from David when he stumbled.

"Oh wait, she's right there," said David. They all turned to see a girl walking toward them and looking down at something in her hands, her familiar-looking hair covering most of her face. When she arrived she looked up and stared at Mush. She was definitely older, but there was no mistake; she was Samantha. Her hazel eyes glowed as she studied his face and her small, freckled nose crinkled, just like it had when she was a girl.

"It really is you," said Mush, his vision being blurred by the tears that tried to escape. He had to force himself not to cry in front of the guys. Samantha smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, it's me," she said. Mush stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly. He noticed a slight hesitation in her acceptance of the hug but her arms ended up placing her hands on his back.

"I thought…I thought I'd never see you again," he whispered. A small, satirical chuckle escaped from Samantha's mouth and she pulled away. She looked at him and a lone tear trickled down her cheek.

"Well, now that you've seen me, I have to go back to work," she said, not bothering to wipe her face as she handed him a rolled up cloth with ice inside. "This is for your head." Mush took it without thinking and without another glance Samantha turned on her heels and rushed into the crowd.

"Who is that?" asked Skittery. Mush turned and realized that his friends had crowded him again. He couldn't bring himself to speak. Instead he shoved the bundle of ice into Skittery's hands, ignoring the boy's protests and took off in search of Samantha. He caught her taking the order of a wizened man sitting by himself at a table.

"Samantha!" he called. Samantha looked up at him, shook her head and walked away to go fill the order. Feeling hurt, Mush sped up to her and grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop.

"What are you doing?" she asked. Her eyes had turned cold.

"You're not happy to see me, Sammy?" he demanded. Samantha pulled away from his grip.

"Of course I'm happy to see you. Of course I'm happy to know that you're actually alive, seeing as you didn't keep your promise to me," she said sarcastically. Mush looked at her with pleading eyes.

"You don't understand. You see—"

"Look Johnny, or Mush, whatever they call you. I have work to do if I want to keep my job so I suggest you leave me alone and go back to your friends," she said. She left abruptly and disappeared into the crowd again. Mush pursed his lips as he tried to keep himself from shaking. What happened to the little girl that he had loved so much? Defeated, Mush walked back to his friends. Most of them had proceeded back to their tables and were once again falling under the spell of Medda's voice. A few of them looked up with a mixture of curious and concerned faces as he returned to his seat. Kid Blink leaned over so that his face was close to Mush's.

"You okay?" he murmured. Mush nodded half-heartedly.

"What was that all about?" asked Racetrack, his loud voice moving others to stare at Mush.

"Nothin'," said Mush.

"That wasn't nothin'," insisted Race. "What'd ya do to get on that dame's bad side? I'll tell ya, if you'se don't know what to do with her, let me have a go and show ya how it's done—"

Race had barely finished his sentence before Mush got up and pulled at his friend by the collar, hoisting him up out of his seat. A look of horror and confusion flashed across the dark-haired Italian's face. Mush was never known to be violent.

"What d'ya think yer doin'?" asked Race, his voice high-pitched and shaking. Mush's glare softened. He in fact had no idea what he was doing. He let go of Race so abruptly that the shorter boy stumbled back into his chair. Racetrack adjusted his wrinkled shirt as he stared grudgingly at Mush.

"Sorry," Mush muttered. He didn't bother to look at the incredulous gazes that fell on him as he returned to his seat.

"Jeez Mush, I was only jokin'," said Racetrack. Mush nodded his acknowledgment. "Next time you pull a stunt like that I won't hesitate to soak ya," Race added, obviously embarrassed at being handled the way he had.

"I think it's time to go," said Jack. He stood up and motioned for the other boys to follow. A couple boys grumbled their dissent but most agreed and began to gather themselves to leave. Mush, however, stayed where he was.

"You comin'?" asked David. Mush shook his head.

"I think I'll stay a little while longer," he said.

"You ain't walkin' back alone, not with a hot head," said Kid Blink. Mush didn't bother to look at him.

"I said I'll stay," he said defiantly. The other boys exchanged puzzled glances. Mush had never acted like this before.

"Okay then," Blink said softly. The others left, muttering amongst themselves as they did so.

Mush ordered another drink and settled himself in his chair in anticipation for the end of the show. He couldn't leave…not yet.

* * *

Samantha slumped against the bar she had just finished cleaning, more than relieved that the night was over. Seeing Jonathan had taken a lot out of her, and the only thing she wanted to do was crawl in bed and pretend that it had never happened. How could he have just forgotten about her for seven years and then expect her to just fall into his arms with happiness after an accidental encounter? The thought of him assuming she would forgive and forget that easily angered her.

"Sam?" said a voice from behind her. Without turning around she already knew who it was.

"We're closed," she said.

"So this is how it's gonna be, huh? I know that I ain't yer favorite person right now but damn it, I'm still yer brother," said Jonathan. Samantha's eyes turned into slits as she faced him and she could feel her ears becoming hot with rage.

"Don't you swear at me, Jonathan Meyers, and the last time I checked brothers don't just up and leave their sisters," she said. Jonathan gazed at her, looking like he was trying to find the right words to say.

"I didn't just leave. Well, I didn't want to anyways," he said, looking at her with pleading eyes. She knew he wanted her to understand but it was just so hard a concept to grasp.

"Then why didn't you let me go with you? Or better yet, why didn't you come back for me?" she asked. She felt herself giving him the same pleading look he was giving her. She knew she was being demanding, but he deserved it, right? Jonathan's bottom lip trembled and if she didn't know any better, she would've sworn that he looked almost afraid of her.

"Well, you'se was so young and I didn't want nothin' to happen to ya. But I was gonna come back, I swear, it's just…well…I was…" he trailed off, leaving Samantha confused and even angrier than before. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He broke eye contact with her and looked down at his scuffed boots. There was silence as Samantha watched him. He had grown to be such a handsome boy; she supposed he looked just like his father. But she had no sympathy for that pathetic excuse for an explanation.

"Yes, you are sorry," she concluded. She proceeded to walk around the bar and clean tables, hoping that Jonathan would take a hint and go away.

"Wait!" called her brother. No such luck; she had forgotten that he hadn't been particularly good with hints. She ignored him and continued to wipe down the tables with her rag. "Can I just ask you somethin'?" Samantha did not reply. "Why are you workin' here? Luke would never allow you to work in a place like this."

"That's none of your business," she said. Jonathan stepped in front of her, anger flashing across his face.

"It is my business, I'm yer brother!" he nearly shouted. Samantha glared at him. Her eyes stung with salty tears as she thought about her father.

"Oh yeah? Then where were you when Papa _died_, huh?" she said. She watched as Jonathan's face took on the expression as if he had gotten punched in the stomach. A sense of vertigo came over her and she nearly stumbled from being so overwhelmed. Her tears were falling shamlessly down her face now.

"Samantha, I…I'm sorry," said Jonathan.

"You've said that before," Samantha spat. "Everyone—Mama, you, Papa—you all left and now I have no one," she said. Jonathan took a step closer and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"That ain't true. You have me," he said. Samantha shook her head and stepped out of his reach.

"No. I _had_ you, but not anymore," she told him. Jonathan looked hurt, but she didn't care. What she said was true.

"I—"

"Mush?" Whatever Jonathan was about to say was cut off by Medda, who had appeared at Samantha's side.

"Oh, heya Medda," said Jonathan. "Thanks for everythin' tonight, I had a real good time." Medda smiled.

"I'm glad you did. It's getting late, though, and I know Mr. Kloppman doesn't approve of his boys walking in at all hours of the night," the older woman said. Jonathan nodded and dug his hands into his pockets.

"Right. Well, goodnight," he said before turning and walking toward to door. Samantha sucked in a ragged breath when he turned back around. "Ya look real beautiful, Samantha." Then he turned and disappeared behind the door.

Samantha realized that Medda might have seen her crying so she quickly wiped her tears.

"Is everything okay, Samantha?" Medda asked, examining the girl's face. Samantha nodded and put on her most convincing smile.

"Yes ma'am, I'm fine," she tried to reassure her. Medda smiled back and pushed a strand of hair away from the girl's face.

"Don't you go worrying about Mush. He's a good boy who means no harm. Handsome fellow, isn't he?" said Medda. She winked before turning around and walking to her dressing room. Samantha sighed, not sure if she should be relieved or horrified at Medda's implications. As a headache began to form at her temples, Samantha put down her rag and headed for bed. Hopefully sleep would wash away this memory.

* * *

Mush let the door of Irving Hall slam shut as he stepped out into the cool April air. He kicked at a pebble in defeat and began to walk toward Duane Street. Why couldn't he have told her why he never came back? What had stopped him? _Yer a coward,_ he thought to himself.

"Hey," said a voice from behind him. Mush whirled around in alarm, balling his fists in anticipation for anyone who wanted to mess with him. He relaxed when he saw Kid Blink put his hands up in mock defense.

"Whoa there slugger, don't worry, I'm not Racetrack," he said. Mush rolled his eyes and paused so that his best friend could fall into step with him.

"What're ya doin' out here?" Mush asked. Blink hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and shrugged.

"I was waitin' for ya. Didn't I say you weren't walkin' back alone with a hot head?" he said. Mush chewed on the inside of his cheek, upset that Blink didn't trust him not to get into trouble, but also grateful that he would watch out for him.

"You didn't have to do that, I was in there for an hour," said Mush. Blink shrugged again.

"It didn't feel that long," he said.

The boys walked in amicable silence for a few minutes and Mush was becoming more and more thankful that Blink had waited for him, because he wouldn't have wanted to walk all the way back by himself at this time of night.

"So," said Blink, shattering the peace. "Am I allowed to ask who that goil was?"

"Nope," replied Mush.

"Fair enough."


	5. Chapter 4: Mush's Goil

**What's this? An update so soon? Enjoy!**

"Come on, up and at 'em, sleepyhead," a soft voice said, waking Samantha out of her restless sleep. She groaned in protest. "Samantha, there's work to do," Medda said. Samantha opened her eyes and pouted.

"I'm up," she said wearily as she slowly got herself into a sitting position. Noticing the girl's reluctance to leave her bed, Medda frowned and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you ill?" she asked. Samantha shook her head. Medda placed a soft hand on her forehead. "Well you don't feel warm. What's going on? You've been acting strangely for the past few days."

Samantha looked away in embarrassment, knowing that it was true. Her mind had been clouded with thoughts of her brother, so much so that she had been driven to the point of distraction and subsequently made errors at work. In her preoccupation with her thoughts, she had forgotten to pick up the laundry, spilled a drink on a customer, and dropped a stack of drinking glasses on the floor, letting them shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. She was a mess.

"Everything's fine. I know I've been distracted lately and I'm sorry," she said. Medda smiled.

"We all get distracted, Samantha. We just have to learn to prioritize our thoughts. I know you haven't had it very easy but things will get better, alright?" The elder woman patted her knee lovingly.

"Yes ma'am," said Samantha.

"Plus, I don't think I can take another patron storming out of here with a wet lap," Medda said teasingly. Samantha rolled her eyes and smiled.

She noticed that the vaudevillian was dressed much simpler during the day than at night. She was wearing a dark red dress with black trimming that was much more modest and less frilly than her nighttime attire. Her fiery hair was pulled up into a fashionably high bun and there was barely any makeup on her face. This look suited her, and Samantha wished that one day she too would look beautiful in both humble and extravagant attire.

"Well, time to start the day," said Medda, standing up and sticking her hand in her pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. "This is a list of things I need you to do today. I don't think it'll take terribly long." Medda handed Samantha the list and bade her farewell.

Getting up out of her bed, Samantha made her way to the tiny dresser sitting against the wall of the large storage closet-turned-bedroom. She pulled out a white blouse, navy blue skirt and tan apron, given to her by some of the dancers who had outgrown them. After putting them on and sliding her feet into some brown boots, she pulled the front of her long hair back and held it in place with two hair pins, letting the rest hang freely in wavy locks down her back. She made a quick visit to the water closet down the hall before walking back into her room and grabbing the list that Medda had given her. There weren't too many things written down and she hoped they wouldn't take too long.

The first task to perform was to bring the laundry to the cleaners. Samantha hurried out of her room and walked into the performers' dressing room, where a large basket full of costumes awaited her. Bracing herself, she lifted the heavy basket up and walked back through the building and outside. The weather was nice today, which Samantha was grateful for. She hated the winter and was glad that March had transitioned nicely into April. The sun was already out despite it being early, and though it was slightly cool now, Samantha knew that it would warm up by noon. She lumbered down Broome Street as quickly as she could with her burden, adjusting her hands when they burned from being rubbed against the stiff fibers of the laundry basket. A little voice nagged in the back of her mind, complaining of how she wished she was stronger. Finally she arrived on Mulberry Street, a street in Little Italy where the woman who cleaned clothes for a living lived. She groaned when she reached the tenement building and remembered how many steps it took to get to the third floor. Sucking up her irritation, she huffed and puffed until she reached her destination.

Samantha breathed a sigh of relief when she arrived at number 306, and placed the laundry basket at her feet in order to knock on the door. A few seconds later the door opened and a busy-looking Italian woman stood in the doorway. A baby could be heard crying in the background, being drowned out by two men shouting in Italian.

"Hello, Mrs. De Luca," said Samantha. The woman gave her a fleeting smile.

"Hello, Samantha. You need wash?" she asked in a thick accent. Samantha nodded, picking up the laundry basket. Mrs. De Luca took it and quickly scanned her eyes over it, giving a nod of approval. "Pick up in two days," she said. "And don't forget."

"Okay," said Samantha, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She turned as the door closed behind her and walked down the steps, happy to be free of her yoke. She walked outside again and checked the list. The next task was to place the usual order of alcohol at the distributors on Worth Street.

On her way, Samantha roamed lazily through the streets, taking in the scenery around her. Manhattan was different than Queens, though they were both in the same big city. Queens was more spacious, and there were far less people residing it. Here in Manhattan, the buildings were taller, and it seemed like someone took up every crevice, every nook and cranny that there was. She remembered being brought here with her mother and brother many years ago. Samantha had loved those trips they used to take. Mama had called them adventures. Being from South Carolina, her mother, Anna, would act as wide-eyed as her children when going to the big city. As she walked down a street Samantha remembered the disdainful stares they had gotten when walking. She hadn't really thought much of them at the time, but as she got older she realized that they had been staring at Jonathan, probably wondering why this white woman was holding on so tightly to that half-Negro boy. It never seemed to bother Mama, though. She would smile and say, "Look at these people, they can't get enough of how beautiful my children are."

Samantha smiled sadly to herself at the memory. She missed those days of innocence, when ignorance was bliss. It was hard not to remember how cruel a world she lived in now. _Maybe _I_ was just as cruel as those people,_ she thought. _Maybe I acted just as badly toward Johnny as Papa did. _ Maybe there really was a legitimate reason why Jonathan hadn't come back for her. Maybe it was she that was being the irrational one. She shook her head. There was nothing irrational about being angry with him. He hadn't wanted her all those years. She still stood firm in her belief that he shouldn't have expected her to accept him into her life after a chance encounter.

Samantha would've continued walking down the street, not paying attention to where she was going if her stomach hadn't growled. She hadn't eaten breakfast yet and her body was not agreeing with her. Seeing a familiar pastry cart, she walked over, her mouth already watering from the delicious aroma.

"'Ello Samantha," said Thomas, a man in his late twenties or early thirties who owned the cart. He was from England—Liverpool, he had told her.

"Hey Thomas," said Samantha.

"An' 'ow are we doin' this mornin', eh? What can I get you?" he asked. Samantha scanned the cart, spotting a blueberry scone that looked especially enticing.

"I'll take that scone," she said. Thomas grabbed it as Samantha dug in her pocket. Her face fell when she pulled her empty hand out, realizing that she forgot her money sack in her room. "I'm sorry, I don't have any money on me," she said. "Thanks anyway, Thomas." She turned to leave but Thomas stopped her.

"Hold on, Samantha. I can't let a pleasant girl like you go without eatin'. It's on the house," he said, placing the scone in her hand. Samantha shook her head.

"I can't accept this," she said. Thomas smiled.

"Well I'm not taking it back, and it'll be a waste if it isn't eaten…" Samantha smiled warmly at him.

"Thank you," she said.

"Anytime," said Thomas. She continued on her way, breaking bits of the pastry off and popping it into her mouth. She soon arrived at the Worth Street Distribution Company and walked in. The inside looked like a small warehouse, the walls lined with liquors and whiskeys and rums and beers. She walked up to the desk in the front where a balding man sat reading the paper.

"Excuse me," she said. The man set the paper down and scrutinized the girl in front of him.

"What can I do for you?" he asked in a raspy tone.

"I'm from Irving Hall. I was asked to place the usual order," said Samantha. The man took out a ledger and scanned it.

"Ah yes, Irving Hall, Medda Larkson's place. Okay, I'll place the order, Miss," he said. Samantha nodded to him.

"Thank you," she said. She walked out of the distribution company and made her way down the street to complete her errands. The streets were much more crowded than they were earlier this morning, if that was even possible, and she felt herself being jostled by people who were in a hurry to get to their destinations. She wondered what engagement was so important that they didn't even have time to say excuse me on the way. Finally she came to an opening and the crowd cleared up a little. She quickened her pace, realizing that her time reminiscing had probably set her back a little.

"A penny for a pape, miss?" said the voice of a newsie. Samantha didn't even bother to look up to acknowledge the boy.

"No thanks," she said, keeping her head down and hurrying past him.

"Hey!" the boy called out. "Yer that barmaid from Medda's." Samantha rolled her eyes. Of course he knew who she was; it was no secret that she worked at Irving Hall. She spared a glance backward and saw that the newsie talking to her was the boy with the eye patch from the day of Jonathan's birthday. "Mush's goil."

Samantha froze. It took her a second to remember that her brother now went by Mush and another second to register that this boy thought that she was Mush's beau.

"Oh no, John—Mush and I…we—" she stuttered. The newsie put his hand up to stop her.

"It's okay I understand. It ain't none of my business anyways," he said. Samantha walked closer to him, peering at his one eye that she realized was a beautiful shade of crystal blue. He was taller than her, and lanky but strong-looking. A half-smile played on his lips in only the way a swaggering teenage boy could pull off. He was more handsome than she had remembered.

"No you don't understand. Your friend, Mush, is my brother," she said. The boy's eyebrows shot to his hairline.

"But yer…and he's…" the boy didn't finish his sentence but Samantha got his drift.

"_Half_-brother," she corrected herself. "But I see I wasn't worthy of mentioning," she added, the pain of it all suddenly hitting her again. She searched him, trying to read his expression. It was hard when half of his face was covered by his hat and that patch.

"Well, with all due respect, we newsies don't really talk about our lives before we's became newsies," he said cautiously. Samantha nodded her understanding, though she wasn't quite sure if she truly understood. So Jonathan was a newsie, huh? Well that explained his motley horde of friends the other night.

"Well, thank you for that," she said, beginning to turn around and be on her way.

"'Scuse me," he called out to her again. Samantha turned back around before she could stop herself. "What's yer name?" he asked.

"Samantha," she said. The boy smiled brightly, a wide, toothy smile that made him look even more appealing.

"I'm Kid Blink," he said. Samantha grinned back. She wondered how these boys got their strange names.

"See you around, Kid," she said. She turned back around and hurried to go finish the rest of her errands.

* * *

Mush sat in a booth at Tibby's Restaurant, greedily helping himself to a roast beef sandwich. It had been a good selling day, which had boosted his spirits greatly, and for the first time in the past few days he felt satisfied. Racetrack had been telling a story about his day at Sheepshead and he opened his mouth wide to laugh at the funny parts. The two newsies had patched things up the morning after the incident at Medda's when Racetrack had handed him an extra piece of bread as they passed the nuns' breakfast wagon. It had been his form of a truce and Mush took it wordlessly, falling easily back into their usual routine like nothing had happened.

"So what did that guy do when he found out it was you who gave 'im the bad tip on that horse?" asked Jack, anticipating the end of the story.

"I ran o' course. I ain't stupid," said Racetrack. The boys laughed heartily but stopped abruptly when the door flew open and Kid Blink stormed in.

"Hey Blink, finally sold all yer papes?" said Racetrack. Blink ignored him, his eyes focused on Mush.

"Why didn't you tell me she was yer sister?" he demanded. Mush choked on his sandwich, his throat suddenly going dry. Bumlets promptly patted him on the back.

"Sister? What sister?" asked Jack.

"Why didn't you say anythin', Mush?" asked Blink. Mush nervously scratched the back of his neck as sporadic coughs escaped from his mouth. He took a sip from his water and cleared his throat.

"What're ya talkin' about, Kid?" he asked. Blink rolled his eye.

"You knows exactly what I'm talkin' about. The goil from yer birthday, why didn't you tell me she was yer sister?"

"Whoa, that goil was yer sister?" said Race. "Gee Mush, if I'd known she was yer sister—"

"You still would've said what you did," said David, receiving chortles from Jack, Skittery, and Bumlets. Race shrugged.

"Ya think you's could set me up with her?" asked Race. Mush ignored him. He was too busy glaring at Blink to notice anyone else in the room.

"And how'd you find that out, anyway?" Mush asked. The memories from the night of his seventeenth birthday gnawed at his stomach.

"I just ran into her. I tried to sell her a pape and I recognized her. Then she told me," said Blink. Mush could feel his face flushing with anger. He slammed a few pennies on the table for his lunch and abruptly got up, almost knocking the table over in his wake.

"It ain't none of yer business!" he spat at Blink before stomping out of the restaurant. The other newsies watched him go, becoming very worried with his recent behavior.

"Heya Mush," said Specs as he walked into the restaurant. Mush brushed past him and walked out.

"What's up with him?" Mush heard the bespectacled boy say before the door closed. Once outside Mush kept walking, not knowing where he was going. He hated that Samantha had the power to make him feel so much emotion.

"Mush, wait!" called Blink behind him. Mush didn't listen. "Mush stop, please!" Blink grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him to a stop. Mush ripped himself from Blink's grasp before whirling around and glowering fiercely at his friend.

"So she can talk to you but she can't talk to me? What did you say to her, Blink? What did you say to her that would have her talk to _you_ and not me?" he shouted. Blink looked at him with empathetic eyes.

"I dunno," he said. Mush and Blink stared at each other for a few seconds before Mush turned abruptly and kept walking.

"Where're you goin'?" asked Blink. Mush shrugged.

"Dunno," he said. Blink caught up to him again and stood in front of him, blocking the other boy's path.

"Just talk to me, okay? I'm yer best friend, remember? Let's just go back to the Lodging House and talk," he said. Mush sighed. He knew Blink to be a persistent son-of-a-gun and sooner or later he would have to talk.

"Fine," he said.

So Mush told Blink everything. He told him about his mother's passing and his stepfather's brutality and his escape when Blink, Racetrack, and Spider found him. He told him about the vision he had after he had passed out on his birthday, and about his conversation with Samantha when he stayed behind after the show. Blink had listened intently through the whole thing, nodding his head or murmuring his comprehension at the appropriate times. When he was done his voice was hoarse from talking for so long. There was silence for a few minutes while Mush processed what he had said and Blink processed what he had heard.

"So uh, why didn't you go back for her?" said Blink finally. He was sitting on a bottom bunk across from Mush.

"Huh?" said Mush, still lost in his thoughts.

"I said, why didn't you go back for her?" Blink repeated. Mush ran his hand down his face in exhaustion.

"I…I was scared," he said.

"Scared of what?" asked Blink. Mush shrugged.

"I dunno. I think I was afraid of runnin' into Luke again mostly, you know, gettin' beaten. But I was also afraid that she might not want me, that she was happy without me." Mush paused, taking a deep breath. "I did try to go back, y'know. Twice. Once was two years after I left. It was Christmas and I had gotten her this book — somethin' by Charles Dickens — and I when I went to give it to her I saw her through a window with her pa. She looked real happy. They both did. I couldn't interfere with that. The second time was after the strike. I had that newspaper clipping in my hand and I was gonna show her. I wanted her to be proud of me. But halfway to Queens I chickened out and turned back." Kid Blink nodded in understanding.

"She still cares," Blink said. "I could see it in her eyes. Just give her some time. She'll come around." Mush's eyes lit up.

"Ya think so?" he said. Blink smiled.

"I know so," he said.

Mush nodded, hoping with all his heart that his friend was right.


End file.
